


Kiss Number One: Nimitaka

by a_xmasmurder



Series: The Eight Types of Kissing [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Computers are evil, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Frustration, Kissing, Life and Such In MI6, M/M, musings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 02:03:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/pseuds/a_xmasmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1. Nimitaka – kissing on lips without force.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Number One: Nimitaka

**Author's Note:**

> Beginning a short little series :D
> 
> Not beta'd or Britpicked (is _anything_ I do?), so if I fucked up, let me know :D

Q wanted to drop his head onto his keyboard in frustration. He’d worked on the damned programme for the entire morning and the better part of the day, just to get it online and working. He had taken a break to put something other than tea and coffee into his stomach before it declared mutiny and came back to nearly every screen in his workshop displaying the dreaded blue screen of death.

He had debated just throwing his hands up in defeat and setting off the equivalent of a nuclear bomb in the system, just to build it from scratch once more. He also debated throwing the whole computer out the window before he remembered he didn’t even _have_ a window down here, in the bowels of the London underground. He stood in the foyer and stared off into the middle distance for a bit, sorting through files and information in his mind and trying really, _really_ hard not to throw a childish fit of such that MI6 has never seen, even when 004 was still alive. _Man, could that one throw a fit._ Q stomped his foot a couple times, just to test the theory of a fit out, then shook his head sadly and went back to his mental ruminations.

He didn’t notice that people were sliding past him to get into the workshop. He didn’t notice that someone stood right in front of him and tried to get his attention by waving their hands in front of his face. They gave up when all he did was blink at them - and not even really at them, his eyes were getting dry from staring. What shook him out of his mind was a soft brush of skin over his lips, almost light enough to be mistaken for a gust of wind. But. You know. _Underground._

Q blinked and refocused his eyes to the real world. 007 stood in front of him, a twinkle in his blue eyes and a smirk curling his lips. Q blinked a couple more times, then searched his memory for something resembling this situation he seemed to be thrust into. He came up empty. He then ran a search for something intelligent to say to the agent who, apparently, just kissed him - _there was no way that was wind, it was skin, it was_ lips,  _and 007 is the only one standing in front of me at the moment, so logic would stipulate that he was the one to kiss me, only that is a statistical impossibility because I am Q and 007 is, well, 007, and I'm not a woman_ -

“Um.”

The smirk on 007’s face reached his eyes and made the tanned skin around them crinkle in delight. “Welcome back.”

Q blinked some more. “I. Was never gone, agent.” He cleared his throat. “Was there something you -” He was cut off by 007 leaning forward and - _oh, now it was definitely him kissing me. No doubt._ The kiss was soft, without urgency or lust or even any real reason behind it. Just a closed mouth brushing against a flabbergasted one. He straightened back up and there was no more smirking. There was a real smile, though, one that lit up 007’s eyes in a wholly different way and was that colour rising on his cheekbones? Was the agent actually blushing? Um, was _he_ blushing? “Um.”

“I think I like you incoherent.” 007 cocked his head and looked over his shoulder. “Are you aware that all of your screens are blue, Quartermaster?”

Q growled and stomped his foot. “Damned programming!” He pushed past 007 and over to his main desk, plopped down in the chair, and slammed his head onto his keyboard.

 


End file.
